The Collinsport Chronicles XXIX: The portrait
by Maryland Rose
Summary: The portrait by Charles Delaware Tate was Quentin's salvation. It was also his bane. Now it is about to change...
1. Chapter 1

Oriana has become a werewolf, which allowed her to walk away from the lair of vampire children. Liz is finally dead, and Vicky's unborn baby is safe, but Vicky feels bitter about Carolyn. Adam is courting Carolyn but is interesed in Quentin's portrait, and has summoned the spirit of Carl Collins to help him.

* * *

THE PORTRAIT

Chapter 1

"You want me to negotiate the settlement?" Megan asked Vicky. "I thought that Barnabas Was doing it?"

"I do not want him...He.. he's OK, but in the end, he is a Collins."

Megan nodded. "So you finally figured it out, didn't you kid?"

"I am not a kid."

"Not but you held to your childish dream of being taken by the family, recognized as a member... Very common fantasy among young girls... the 'lost princess', who only needs to wait until a carriage \pulled by four white horses comes at her doorstep."

"They are my family. You said that I was Roger's daughter. But I never really was. Bastards don't count."

"Being a Collins is something special in this town, Or at least that's what they are taught. And that means immunity for their misdeeds, because they are so special, and we are dirt under their feet." Megan spoke from an old bitterness. "Glad to see that you woke up. You might become a woman, yet."

'Not a foolish child?"

"No. And I would also look into your tendency to look for a male protector, who will make the decisions for you. First Burke Devlin, then Barnabas, then Peter, or Jeff. Only when it came to Phillip that did not work. Phillip needed a strong woman who would protect him from himself. If you were not so conditioned to play the damsel in distress, you would have been that woman...Well, it is done. The important thing is that you grow up."

"I still can't believe that Carolyn would let me sleep under her roof, and not even warn her mother about me. Or that Liz, who avoided feeding on Carolyn and Edmund, would care so little for me and my unborn child?"

"They are Collinses and you are not. Why do you think that Barnabas when he first got cursed went to the waterfront and killed the women who fed him, or at least did not care to make sure it was safe for them? Because he was a Collins, and they were dirt under his feet. That's why he did not care to bring the Leviathan box to Phillip and me, turning our life upside down, but when it came to Carolyn, a Collins, he rebelled. I grant you, in the past years he has rejoined the human race. Or come close to it... But you are right. You cannot ask him to negotiate for you. In the end, he will remember that he is a Collins."

"And you will. do it? I cannot pay you yet..."

"When I get you the settlement you will have more than enough to pay me. In the meantime I got a job for you."

"A job? I... cannot do the work you do.."

"You can type, can't you?"

"Yes, but..."

"I got a new computer and I want to put up all the data I got in paper into it. I got a nice database program that will help me search and correlate data. But I want the data to go in. You sit down, enter the data properly and I'll pay you. This way you won't be tempted to ask for your job back. Never let a Collins see you weak. Negotiate form a position of strength, and make them respect you.. And what better way than to let them see that you do not need their money, nor their charity to survive?"

"It sounds like a good plan."

"Good. When can you start?"

* * *

They looked so much like children..

But they were not. Barnabas shivered. He knew that he shouldn't, but he could not help himself.

Cecily laughed, a bit sourly "We give you the willies, don't we?"

"You don't" he lied.

"Don't excuse yourself. It happens all the time. So we scare you, and make you uncomfortable. We know it. We are freaks. Vampire children whose bodies will always be childish, even if our minds are old..."

He looked at her. The bitterness at her lot was evident. He gambled and decided to share what Julia Hoffman told him.

"Cecily, when Julia was treating me, one side effect was rapid aging. I got to look my real age. It was reversed. And she did not pursue it, evidently. But the information is in her notes. She does not want to give it Verhoff. She thinks that he many be making you dependent on him on purpose."

"Yes. He is."

"She figures that there must be among you at least one or two who can replicate her experiments, and expand on it."

"Yes. We got a few scientists. Scientists whose discoveries can never be published under their own name..."

"Even if it is only a couple of years, or a couple of months, it might make a difference to them. They might get taller,.. And some of you could reach puberty..."

"And I might get real breasts? Yes, the good Doctor would not like that."

"So you want it?"

"Yes. I will give you a safe deposit box where she can put it. One of us will retrieve it, and they will do the experiments without me knowing about it until there are results and Uncle Ziggy has to live with the facts."

"I am glad."

Impulsively she embraced. him. "This is the nicest thing anyone has done for me. When I get my breasts I will come thank you in person."

She kissed him, and he tried to control his revulsion... She was older than he was, he reminded himself. And one day she would look like it..

* * *

"You look quite well." Julia told Oriana cheefully.

"Yes. I feel all right. Except that I am now a werewolf."

Julia sighed at that. "It can't be helped. But there is not reason why you can't learn to live with it the way Chris does."

"But there is a cure for it! Both David and Sandy had it!"

Julia shook her head. "It can't be done, for your own safety. Verhoff will leave you alone as long as you have a secret of your own to protect."

Oriana paled at hearing Verhoff's name. "He's...he's..."

"He's protecting children. I know what a son of a bitch he is. But in this he is right. That's why Barnabas chose him over you. He'll always choose the same way."

Oriana's face darkened with remembered anger. "I never expected him to betray me like that."

"Why? Because you were lovers once? Yes, in different circumstances it would have made a difference. Or not made a difference at all. He would just have rescued you because you were in danger. But never at the expense of children."

"Not children, not properly."

"Yes. But still children, still deserving protection. And you wanted to exploit them, didn't you?"

"No. I just wanted a Freud story. I only wanted some leverage."

"Barnabas gave you plenty of stories already, including the one with Munsungan. Verhoff did not owe you anything."

Oriana made a face "Yes, but... Julia, he KNEW Sigmund Freud personally. I heard it and could not think straight."

Julia smiled knowingly. "I have some idea of how you felt. So you trailed him. And you did not stop to think of how dangerous it could be. You thought that he would be a soft touch, like Barnabas."

"Well, yes."

"You were a fool."

"I know. Chris told me a thousand times already."

"Once more won't hurt. You realize that Chris was under no obligation to rescue you."

"I know that too?"

"If it had not been for him, what do you think would have happened to you?"

In spite of herself Oriana shivered. "You are right, Doctor."

"By the way, why did you dump Barnabas so abruptly? He was quite hurt by your... callousness."

"I wasn't being callous. I was making it easy for the both of us. He thought that I was getting more serious than I really was, and I wanted him to lose his illusions quickly."

"You could not commit yourself."

"Not to him. And you know why. I would want a family one day. How could I get one with Barnabas?"

"No." Julia acknowledged "you could not."

That was, Julia reminded herself, why Barnabas had finally accepted George's love. And that was why she had helped bring it about. Not so much for George's sake, not so much because of her own debt, but for Barnabas' sake, because he needed someone to love and be loved.

"Well, I can't blame you for it, really." she admitted to Oriana. "After your left him he found someone else. And he's happy now, so you did him a favor, after all."

* * *

Adam examined the shattered mask. Even broken as it was, with Zachary's sprint gone, there was residual power in it. Angelique could not handle it, and she might have a good reason not to. But he could do it safely.

No, not wholly safely. You had to take precautions with it, as with everything.

He would not be foolish enough to try to wear it in any way. He had heard enough of Judah and what he could do.

But pieces of the mask, ground to a fine powder, well, that was a different story.

He smiled to himself. He had certainly learned a lot since Charles' death. And not just the stuff you learned in night school. Not just how to paint. It was his research into occult libraries that was now bearing fruit. Specially Petofi's diary.

It was strange to read what Petofi had put down about Charles, and about Barnabas.

But it had helped him understand Charles' gift. Everything that he wanted to know about it was there. Petofi had been quite meticulous in writing down his observations and conjectures.

Petofi was dead, of course. He had survived the fire, true. he had overpowered Garth Blackwood and left him behind in the flames. he had thought it wise to let Barnabas and Quentin think that he was dead, while getting ready to strike again. Only Magda had seen him, and alerted the gypsies, who had dispatched him, retrieved the hand, and rewarded Magda by allowing her back into the tribe...

And now he had Petofi's notes and planned to make good use of them.

* * *

"So you are coming back soon?" Amy asked Chris over the phone.

"Not yet. Julia wants to make sure that Oriana knows all that she needs to know in order to be safe."

"Why don't you two come over here? You can teach her, and you can go back to work at the same time. And I'll get to see her again."

"Huh... you want to see her again?"

"Sure."

He was not so sure whether he wanted to bring Oriana to Florida. She'd be willing enough, if only to see Amy again. Ad she might have another reason to do so...

She had become friendlier with him. Not just because of gratitude or a shared curse. It was in apart to get even with Barnabas.

He had had enough of that with Sandy, thank you. Amy could feel like a matchmaker, if she wanted to. But he was not jumping into bed with someone who just realized she could not have Barnabas and was ready to settle for a consolation prize.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Adam applied cement liberally to all the places where the iron bars touched the floor or the ceiling. Later he'd see if the bars needed reinforcing. Cold iron was enough to hold a witch like Angelique, but with a werewolf they would have to be very strong.

He was grateful to Barnabas and Dr. Lang for one thing. The strength in his body. They had only used top quality material in their Science project. He probably would be no match for a werewolf in hand-to-hand combat. Unless he did not mind being bitten or scratched., that is. Charles' portrait would take care of the consequences...

But why borrow trouble? He could use his strength to build a stronger cell instead.

* * *

Oriana could not hold back the sobs as she laid on her bed. She was a werewolf. She had this alien living inside of her, letting it use her body, twisting it so that it could now run across the fields and hunt...

Chris had tried to make it sound as if it was not so terrible, telling her that she could achieve cooperation with the beast inside her.

But still... that such a thing could happen to her. And that Barnabas had done nothing to help her, that he had forbidden Julia to cure her... for her own protection, he had said.

He had never cared for her. Why had she wasted time on him? All that they had shared, their camaraderie, the shared dangers, that had meant nothing to him.

"I even saved his life once!" she shouted angrily "If it had not been for me, Julia would have staked him! Doesn't that count for anything?"

A werewolf. An alien. A beast. A monster..., She, a creature that lived to tear out flesh from living bodies. How could Chris stand it? How could he enjoy his condition a she obviously did? No one could. And now they had condemned her to this. All of them, Verhoff, Barnabas, Julia...

"I will make them pay for it." she swore under her breath. "All of them."

She closed her eyes and imagined herself pounding a stake through Verhoff's heart. She thought of doing the same to Barnabas, only this time slowly, as he pleaded with her, begged her to spare him. Promised her anything if only she let him live. And she listened to his pleas, and sometimes she gave in to them. But other times she just went ahead and killed him, as the louse he was...

As for Julia...Once Barnabas was out of the way, she would find a way to deal with her. Julia did not matter so much...

It was then that she saw it in the sky The disk (no, not a disk, it was more square shaped) bright red and with an aura that resembled flames...

He stared at it, at first not understanding what it was that she saw, the she just watched, unable to find words.

A flying saucer. A honest -to-goodness flying saucer.

* * *

"Quentin? Quentin?"

Quentin tensed. He recognized the voice. Inwardly he groaned as he prepared for the worst.

Somehow the knowledge that it was only a dream made it easier to him.

"Do you remember, Quentin? My loving brother Quentin?"

"Carl, I did not know that Barnabas would kill you."

"What did you expect?"

"He could have handled you without killing you. He had the means for it. He chose not to use them. It was his fault, not mine!"

Carl laughed, cruelly. Quentin had never heard that cruelty before, in the old days. Maybe being betrayed by a brother that he worshipped and tried to emulate was what drove his anger.

"Carl, what do you want of me? I can't give you your life back. I can't fix it."

"You could at least say that you are sorry!"

"I am sorry."

"Yes. You were always sorry afterwards. Was there anyone who you did not betray at one time or another?"

"Leave me in pace, Carl. Nothing can be changed by what you are doing."

"Are you so sure of that?"

Cold sweat formed over Quentin's body. The question was not so the threatening. Carl had made empty threats before. Yet, for some reason, he believed in Carl's implied threat... this time it would be for real..

"Isn't it enough already?" he shouted. "do you think that I am enjoying myself?"

Carl didn't answer. He was in the dark, now, only his eyes showing. Bright eyes.

"Carl!" Quentin shouted "Carl!"

Carl's eyes shone more brightly and there was a hissing sound.

"Carl!" He knew that these were not Carl's eyes, that they were not human eyes...

The serpent struck him on the chest. He felt the venom being injected, felt the pain of the burning, as the venom spread through his body.

He would have only minutes, seconds to live, after this. But he could not die...he would feel the searing pain, and would not die...

"Remember how it was with Liz? She was in pain and she could not die, no matter how much it hurt. Remember her?"

The serpent struck again.

Quentin screamed. And his time he woke up. He looked at the sheets with surprise. A dream. Just a dream.

He never had much of a conscience. Why should the dreams torment him now?

Maybe because they were not truly dreams. Carl was haunting him. With the cunning and inventiveness that he had wasted before on practical jokes, now single-mindedly bent on revenge.

Did death change him so much, then? But no, what Carl was, he probably had always been. Only it had been submerged in his desire to please his big brother Quentin and to imitate him.

Coolly, Quentin could see it now. Carl had worshipped him. Even his choosing Pansy Faye for a bride. A cockney music-hall entertainer could be as glamorous as a gypsy. Quentin had been Carl's hero, his ideal since childhood. To be betrayed by the man that you worshipped...

He lit a cigarette and let the smoke burn his tongue.. he could almost feel the pain where the snake had hit him... It had seemed so real...

... The shiny points were above him... the serpent's eyes...

He held his breath, waiting for it to move... "Carl?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

Then he realized that it was only the moonlight, reflecting on some shiny object. It was only a dream. Carl had not touched him...

A most vivid dream, but just a dream. He slid his hand under his pajama top. He was a bit sore in there. He had very likely bruised himself while he slept.

He wanted to look at it, but something warned him that he'd better not.

He turned on the light. It was only some cellophane paper up there. Nothing else. How it had found its way up there/

He needed a drink, for sure.

He went to the bar that Roger kept so well stocked. He made it double and downed it. It tasted good.

He should get another one. He certainly needed it if he was going to forget his nightmare.

The guillotine. The revolving wheel. The snake. What next?

It might not be Carl, only his own guilt feelings.

No, he knew better. Barnabas himself could testify that Carl was no figment of his imagination.

The other time that he had dreamed about Carl, Nicholas had caused it. They wanted him to find Zachary's mask for them. But the times before that had not been Nicholas' doing. And the other time when he had shown himself, when he had planned to escape to Parallel Time...

No, it was just a dream. He had had worse dreams before..

He put the bottle down. With the alcohol in him he felt a lot braver.

He climbed up the stairs again.

And there was a hissing sound behind him...

* * *

"Peter looks distracted" Iris said.

"He is a lot better now." Yolanda said with quiet assurance.

Iris said nothing. What was normal for Peter? The poor child had never known normality.

She wished she knew him better, that she had some sort of relationship with him. she wished to know if he had really improved. Was his being quiet and acting respectful a good sign or a bad one? Yes, Miss Overton seemed to have extracted acceptable behavior from him. But at what price?

Yet the Kings had praised Miss Overton, had spoken of Peter's improvement... Even if Jessica King was a bit wary in her praises...

"Aunt Iris." Peter said courteously, even formal "Can I go out and play?"

"Yes, you can." she smiled at him.

Peter ran out as fast as he could.

"He's a bit scared of you. "Yolanda admitted "Maybe he remembers..."

Yes, that must be it. it was going to be hard to earn Peter's trust. But it could be done. And Miss Overton would help her.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Adam looked at his portrait. Charles' gift which had served to remove the disfiguring scars from his face and body. Charles had been smart about it. He had painted a handsome, unscarred face on it, then the scars had gone from him to the portrait.

Charles knew of the one side effect of the portrait that would make it undesirable. it would not only prevent physical change, but also emotional and intellectual ones. He had tried to avoid the worst when he had decided to use a portrait to remove the link with Barnabas from his adopted son. He knew how much Adam still had to grow up, so he had not painted the innocent, wistful expression that Adam had. Instead he had shown him full of maturity, self-confident, knowing what he wanted and how to get it. Capable of patience, of understanding, of cunning, of irony, of self-mockery, of all the qualities Adam had been sadly lacking, destroying the child in him so that the adult could have a chance in life.

He wondered how much it had cost Charles to do so, not knowing when the change would take place, or if it would. Not knowing if he had taken away too much or too little. But luck had been with him. Change would not come to Adam for a while. He changed, yes, but gradually. Like the scars. Then Charles had died before the changes became too marked, before he had the time to wonder whether he had made Adam too cold and ruthless. No, while Charles lived ,Adam had retained his innocence and his childlike wonder at the world around him.

He remembered how, laughing, he had taken Charles' paints and tried to pain something of his own. How Charles had been so happy and had offered to teach him.

It had been only a few months before Charles' death, but you don't measure happiness in years, but in joy, and he had never knows such joy before he met Charles, and little of it since, for the wisdom that Charles had given him with his painting had taken some of it away. Wisdom was needed, yes. But sometimes it felt like a chill in is bones. Sometimes he yearned for the capacity to laugh easily and carelessly.

He had wanted to be a man. And that was the price all men paid for growing up. They laugher died, and they were left with a dull ache and a chill inside.

* * *

Pearce took his map and checked the coastline against it. No other way about it. He could pinpoint the location of the wreck within two or three feet. It was THERE. And the jewels sere there, too.

Yet he could not get at them. All the money that he had so painstakingly acquired was not enough. A scuba diving expedition alone was expensive. Worse, he'd have to hire divers. He could not go under the water himself. Something to do with his condition.

He knew of many who would be willing to do it cheaply, but none that would not be tempted to run away with the jewels afterwards...

So the cost kept going up. And he did not have enough for it. He did not have it after fixing that race. He did not have it after all the money that Liz had paid him for his... services. He wondered if he'd ever have enough.

Oh, well, he'd figure out something. He always got some idea or other.

Too bad about Liz. But how could he have known that it would turn out that way? That the crab would be as undead as Liz and would continue to feed on her? He had not wanted to hurt her. He had never wanted to hurt anybody. But it had come about and Barnabas was mad at him. It was not likely that Barnabas would forget easily.

Maybe it was time that he left Collinsport...

But go where? There were few places as comfortable as Collinsport for a vampire. And out there there were still too many people who remembered Elmer Urrey. Or he'd get close to a bookie and throw away all the money he had got.

On the other hand, there was a lot more money to be made on the outside... Maybe enough to get his Russian treasure... only that a wild weekend in Vegas could wipe it out like that...

He had never been in Vegas. He had heard about it... on day, he had promised himself, he'd go there.

He smiled a bit painfully, aware of what he'd do in Vegas. Throw away all his money, and then stay up too late, letting the dawn catch him waiting for the next throw to come in his favor.

Vegas could be _very_ hazardous to his health, not just his finances.

No. Vegas was an empty dream. But the treasure, that had a chance.

Maybe, if he took in a partner...

* * *

The snake struck.

Quentin screamed. "Carl, stop! Don't do this to me! I am sorry! I said that I am sorry, didn't I?"

Carl didn't answer. The snake hissed, ready to strike again.

"Carl, I beg of you, don't do this to me!"

The hissing sounds rose in pitch as the eyes shone brightly.

"Don't, Carl! Don't!"

But the serpent struck again, its fangs finding his heart. As it always would.

Quentin woke up screaming.

* * *

George whistled to Comet. The dog did not respond.

George looked at him, half pitying, half amused.

"Come here. Barnabas is not here and I'll have to make do. Getting stubborn will not help you any."

Unwillingly, Comet trotted towards him. George patted the dog on the head.

"I know that he promised you a vacation, too. But he's out of town. He's found something that interests him more than you. Or me."

He knew where his frustration came form. Barnabas was away. Not only did he miss the times together, but also had to worry about the temptations on Barnabas' path. He was out of Collinsport meeting other people. Meeting other vampires. He might meet a vampire woman who reminded him of Josette. And what would happen then?

Being jealous of Vicky and Sandy was not enough. That...

Last time he had sought a childish sort of revenge by going to be with someone else. Someone who he did not like much, that he sort of looked down on, as if that made it matter less.

And the idea at the back of his mind. Turn Comet back into a man, and take him to bed. Ridiculous... Vicious, since the only way that he could have sex with Nunez would be by rape...

"He's busy." he told Comet "Can you believe that he found a bunch of vampire children? Sounds weird, doesn't it? So you get to walk on all fours a bit longer. And I get to do without a bit longer..."

Julia watched him. "Don't forget that this is a working dog."

"Yes." he muttered. "Barnabas told me about it."

"I must confess that I skeptical about it. A dog and a mental clinic do _not_ go together. But I was too much of the old school. I had become too rigid in my thinking. I did not realize how much until I met Verhoff."

George grinned. "How are you and Kenneth doing?'

"Quite good. How are you and Barnabas doing?"

"I miss him." George shrugged "I know that he well come back, but..."

"But you want him back now."

"I know that it is only for a short time. But I am a compulsive worrier."

"Would you have liked to go with him?"

"Yes. But that would involve a ... commitment that I am not sure I can make now."

"You will have to face the question, eventually."

"Yes. But not now."

* * *

Hallie lit a match to light her stove. A sharp physical pain filled her as she watched the flame move from the match to the gas. She remembered Laura. She remembered the promise that had been made to her, the power she used to have...

She remembered Barnabas Collins. She remembered apologizing to him. When it had been his fault...

Her hands shook. There was an itch in her throat. And the memory of fire being at her command, flowing from her fingertips.

But that was over. Laura had been defeated. Locked inside her own box, waiting to be set free somehow...

She moved her hand over the fire, closing her eyes, willing the power to come back to her.

She screamed, pulling her hand away. It hurt. She looked with surprise at her hand... she had been burned...

Could that be, then? She who used to be Laura's priestess? Her Temple singer? How could fire reject her now?"

She was not much of a singer... not the way Laura had promised her that she could be.

"Don't you know me?" she asked of the fire. "It is me, Hallie Stokes. It is me, Maude Browning. You and I are friends."

* * *

It had to be a bad dream... to many drinks, too much imagination. Carl could not do this to him.

He knew that his hands were shaking. Who was he kidding? He had no defense against Carl. Last time he had tried to buy his freedom with Barnabas' life. Only that had not worked.

If Carl wanted to hurt him, there was nothing that he could do to stop him.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Can you help me?"

Angelique stared at Quentin. "Are you sure that it is Carl?"

"I tried to tell myself that it was only a dream. But the dreams won't go away."

"And there is a snake?"

"Yes. It always strikes me in the middle of the chest."

"Over the heart?"

"Yes. What does it mean?"

"I know what Julia would say. A snake and striking at the heart. Guilt feelings about betraying a brother who worshipped you."

"It is your fault, too. You could have made Carl forget what he had seen. There would have been no need then for what followed."

"Did you lock him in with Barnabas at gunpoint so that I could erase his memory? You could have brought him to me., but you didn't consider it. And I had no previous relationship with him to betray. Yes, it is your guilt feelings, and the more you deny them, the worse they will get."

"It is not my guilt feelings! It is Carl!"

"Maybe, But why now?"

"I have seen him before."

"When? When Nicholas used his image to make you do what he wanted? You know that it is only an illusion."

"Damn it! Why won't you at least try to find if there is anything to it?"

"You should talk to Julia. She can help you. She has helped me a lot. It is because of her that I can now stand on my own two feet."

"Since when did YOU need help for that?"

"Longer than you realize. I did not believe it at first but between her and Megan they made me see. it helped me to understand why I had taken up Sebastian. It helped me form a healthy relationship with Megan."

"I am not interested in meaningful relationships! I only want Carl to go away!"

"In still believe that you should talk to Julia."

Quentin grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "What's the matter with you? Why won't you look into it, at least.?"

She frowned. "Because I'd rather not attract Carl... I do not want to make Barnabas vulnerable again."

"Barnabas! That's all I care about, is that it?"

"I owe him something."

"What about me? Don't you owe me anything?"

"After that riot that you instigated a couple of years ago, you should be grateful that I don't give you what I owe you."

"It wasn't me! It was Kira! And Carolyn!... and anyway, I am not with them anymore.

"You know the harm that was done. And because of that Chris was possessed by Tom and the harm that followed can be partly laid at your door. And then you helped Zachary."

"So did Joe and Roger.:"

"They had reason to hate me. You did not."

"I was scared."

"If it is Carl, you can try doing what Barnabas did."

"I can't. If I was missing no one would look for me. I could be walled in, like Barnabas was, but no one would care. They would just be glad to be rid of me."

"Then you have to find another way out."

"And you won't help me?"

"No. I won't"

"You are a mean, spiteful bitch."

"You spelled it wrong. And I am not Barnabas, if you haven't noticed."

* * *

Adam prepared the paints for this palette. There was a great anxiety in him and the best way to handle for him was to paint.

"How are you doing?" Carl appeared next to the easel.

"Waiting. I need you to do your part."

"I am doing it. Quentin is very scared now. It will need some more time, thought."

"Good." Adam began painting. "I can't wait to do this. It is important to me."

"To me too. Can I get Barnabas, too?"

"I want to get him, too. But not as badly. Or maybe I got him through Carolyn once... Anyway, I don't think that Angelique will let us do anything to him. Just be thankful that she allows us to hound Quentin this way."

"Yes." Carl agreed "she does allow me to do more than I could do on my own. Trask and the others do not care for Quentin... and we can't touch Barnabas now."

Adam nodded. "At least we'll get this done."

"Maybe you can get Barnabas through Carolyn again."

* * *

Iris looked pale, yet composed, as she received Julia.

"Will Violet be getting out?' she asked.

"Not for a while. Not for a long while. There is a lot of damage there. It will take time to undo it."

In spite of herself Iris felt satisfaction at hearing that. Violet had asked for it, after all...

But she will return to normalcy, won't she?"

"There is a good chance that she will. Much better than it seemed at first. Still, it is going to take time."

"She will get better?"

"She will" Julia felt testy. "We discharge a lot more patients than the public believes we do. And only a small minority relapse at all."

"I guess I should be more sure of it, eh? After all, you put me back into circulation."

"Tell me, have you made any decision about Peter? You know that he needs therapy still."

Iris shook her head. "He seems to have improved a lot with Miss Overton. Peter's old therapist says that she is what he needs. And the Kings cannot praise her enough."

"Yes. She is a good teacher. But I got the feeling that he may need more than that."

"You still want him treated by Barnabas?"

":Barnabas is not the only therapist at Wyncliffe. And I can understand why you are wary of his methods."

"I wonder... You know what Zeb King says about him. What that kid is doing a his house. Or rather what Barnabas is doing to him."

"I am not sure what you mean"

"Come on, Julia. Urien is a male prostitute. Why would Barnabas want him?"

They should have foreseen it. Zeb King's accusations had had an effect. Ironic about Zeb. He had a good reason to hate Barnabas. But blocked from doing anything about it, he went after him for a different matter with a crusading spirit.

"It is not the first time that Barnabas takes home a bird with a broken wing, you know that."

No use, Zeb's poison had gotten to her, and she would not let them help Peter, who did need it.

* * *

Yolanda took Peter on a walk. There seemed to be something to this spot. Certainly Peter seemed drawn to it. Maybe something had happened in this spot once. Maybe some Indian rites. Or Viking, maybe. Or even Celtic... either of them would have conferred power to the ground.

The problem as how much of it was left? And could she hope to tap into it?

"Is this the place?" she asked Peter "the one you dreamed about?"

"Yes. This is it." Peter seemed to be as much afraid of it as he was attracted to it.

Yolanda hesitated. Could she handle that kind of power?

* * *

The dog was stiff. Drained of blood. Barnabas felt a know in the pit of the stomach. The boy stood over the corpse, tears in his eyes.

"You disobeyed" Barnabas said. he certainly had an aptitude for stating the obvious, he thought. "You bit him, you did not stop in time, and now Rover is dead."

"Can't you make him well again?" the boy pleaded.

Barnabas shook his head. "It is dead. Cannot be fixed."

It was cruel, but no more cruel than children of a farm being made to understand that the baby animals they befriended and played with were to be slaughtered and eaten... No matter how much the child loved it, the pet went into the pot... At least these children had a choice...

For life feeds on death. Just because he escaped it now, by leaving his source alive did not mean that others did. Except vegans...

These children had a choice. And they had to learn how to choose. The more painful the lesson, the better chance it would be remembered.

He sighed and took the dog's corpse away...


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Roger and Edmund were sharing a walk on the grounds.

"Do you miss Mrs. Todd?" Roger asked.

"Yes. Why did she leave? Was she mad a t me:?"

"No.. She had problems and she needed to go solve them... It had nothing to do with you."

It had to do with him and Carolyn.

Mrs. Todd. Vicky. His daughter. He had known it from the first day, but he did not want to admit it. A bastard trying to worm her way into his good graces. That was what he thought Vicky was doing. It would never do. The Collinses never acknowledged their bastards. Might make settlements on them, on condition of never using the name... A bastard welcome into the family... that was just not done..."

But Vicky was genuinely ignorant of her origins. And once she fund out, she made it clear that she did not want him as a father...

Who would?

David certainly did not. David his own legitimate child, had chosen Barnabas as a father substitute, since the real thing had proved so disappointing...

"Where are we going now?" Edmund asked "the movies?"

"There is a carnival in town. You ever been to one?"

"No, never."

"You'll like it."

He held Edmund's hand more tightly. No matter. He had Edmund. Even if he had lost Vicky and David, he had Edmund.

* * *

The fire did not look more inviting than it had done the last time. It did not know her anymore. Laura was gone and with her went the kinship that she once had with the bright flames.

Still, there should be a way to regain what she had lost... to free Laura from her prison.

Hallie remembered how close they had come to victory. If only they had been faster. A few seconds, and Brant would have killed Barnabas... just a few seconds...

Geroge Brant had lifted his gun at Barnabas, had aimed it, got ready to press the trigger...and did not press it. He had looked around, dazed, then lowered the gun and ordered everybody to stop.

She had lifted her hands to strike him down with bolts of fire. But suddenly she had no more bolts. It was over. They had lost.

...There had to be a way ton have the power again.

She knew what pain would be the price of failure. She gritted her teeth. She chanced it.

She moved her hand over the fire. The heat became pain. She made herself not notice it. She had to be stronger than her own fear. There was much to be won and lost.

The pain increased. Let it be. She would hold steady. She began to pray, softly. "Laura, it is me, Hallie, your servant. I only want to serve you."

But she knew that Laura could not help her.

"Oh, Great Ra." she chanted as he skin began to blacken and the smell of burned flesh reached her nose. "hear your servant."

The pain was unendurable, now. She was sure that her hand was damaged beyond repair. The blood was running off it and bubbling as it escaped her body.

"It is me, Ra. Hallie Stokes. Me, Maude Browning. You promised me revenge years ago. Listen to me, Great Ra. Do not deny me this chance to serve thee."

Suddenly she was bathed in light and was no longer in her kitchen.. But she knew that in some way she was still there, and that her hand was still burning.

A man whose face she could not make out faced her. He was bathed in a light that blinded her. "Do you consider yourself worthy?" the man asked with a thunderous voice "Do you wish to take Laura's place among us?"

"I want to serve."

"Do you wish to serve me?" Ra asked.

"I served Laura faithfully."

"Yes. You did. But Laura is no longer with us. Will you serve me then? Will you be my faithful follower?"

"I will serve you. Great Ra. As Laura served you."

His voice was stern. "What I gave Laura I will give you. For a price. You will return to the fire, and bring your children with you. The sacrifice if children in pleasing to me."

"I will give my children to you."

"Step into the fire now. Be consumed in the fire and arise again as a phoenix. As my servant. There will be pain now, this first time, but if you bear it, fire will never hurt you again."

* * *

Carolyn wondered why she was so clumsy, so embarrassed talking to Adam. The man was her stepfather, at best. He had loved his mother, in a way, had made her happy, after all. Why try to make him account for a promise he had made years ago?

Still, it was somehow there, the attraction between them. What they had shared once. What they had hoped to share.

She could not deny her own hurts. They had shut her in a prison as impenetrable as the one that Liz had once imposed on herself. Worse, for her mother had never known the isolation that she had endured and the chilling self-disgust that hatred brought...

And now it was all back. When Vicky has walked out of Collinsport that self-disgust had risen again. Vicky hated her...

And she had not gotten around to replace her yet...

Still, she had to face Adam, and discuss the division of property that Liz had left.

"I am not interested in owning the plant, nor any share of it. I don't want to find myself in charge of the family business nor anything like that. I endured enough abuse for being what it was. I will not endure the villagers' scorn for being their boss. I want to leave this place. All I need is a comfortable income, and I get enough of it on my own/ A cash settlement would be enough."

"How much?"

"You will find it reasonable. Much more reasonable than my selling them outside the family, or dealing with David."

"David ahs no money. Roger disinherited him, and he goes to college because mother paid for it. I am doing it now. He renounced his heritage in exchange for it."

"Too bad." Adam shook his head. "I like the kid. He was one of the few who showed me kindness in the old days."

"I did show you kindness, too."

"Yes. You did. And in return I hurt you." Adam shook his head as if ashamed of himself.

Her lips disappeared into a thin line. Finally she asked the question. "Why did you do it?"

"Revenge, in part." he said simply "I wanted to get even with everybody. Fist I thought that by marrying you I would end up controlling the business and the town and that everyone would be at my beck and call. As for Barnabas, I would get him evicted from the Old House... Yes, I came back to Collinsport for revenge and you were the means to that end. But then I met your mother, and had time to think what she had done to herself. That I could end up like her, shut up in a place that I hated... suddenly I realized that there was more to life than Collinsport. For whatever reasons I was given life, it was up to me to make the most of it."

"You never wanted me for myself?"

"I did want you too, not just your money or position. But it was better for you that I did not marry you. Yu would have been disappointed in me very quickly. And I would not have liked it to be dependent on you, either. You'd have used that power over me sooner or later. No, I had to get away, make something of myself on my own."

"And my mother gave you that?"

"Yes. It was thanks to her that I could establish myself as a painter. Here, in Collinsport I would have been an amateur with delusions of greatness. A weekend painter to whom the family always says isn't it nice"?, but expect him to show up at the office Monday morning."

"Thanks for telling me this." Carolyn said ironically "for the way you make me sound."

"It would not have been your fault. It is very likely that it would have been mine. It had to be your mother, don't you see? She had missed so much of life and her fate could have been mine. She made me realize that. Your mother was an exceptional woman and I admired her."

"You didn't love her?"

"I enjoyed her company and she enjoyed mine. We took each other on a trip around the world. We served each others' needs. No, it was not love. But it was more than elderly lady and gigolo."

Carolyn grimaced at that.

"Carolyn" he moved to her, touching her arm lightly. "I know that I have hurt you. I know that you think that you can never forgive me. Yet, somehow, we could have another chance."

"I am married, now." Carolyn said firmly.

"To Quentin? Come on, he told me already of the terms of your marriage. Do you really want that?

"Why not?

* * *

"I can't keep from thinking about Phillip" Megan confessed to Angelique "there should be something that we could do."

"I tried looking for him. But I got nothing."

"Which means that he is dead."

"Dead or.. lost."

"Like what happened to him before?"

"Or gone into a Parallel Universe. That room in Collinwood is not the only passageway between Universes."

Megan shivered. "I hope that wherever he is, it is a more welcoming place than the one Barnabas visited."

* * *

Another night. Would the dream return? It had done so before. Why should tonight be different?

Before he had dreaded the nights of the full moon. But the other nights had no terror for him. Now all of them did.

It was unfair. Why should he be the one to pay? Why not Barnabas? Why not Angelique?

He touched his chest again. There were no marks on him. There could not be. Still...

He had to go to sleep again... he could not go without sleep forever.

He'd have to fall asleep again...

The serpent was there. No way to escape it. And the poison that dripped from its fangs.

It was a dream and he would wake up from it. But not before the serpent had struck. Not before he knew pain and fear again.

"Damn it, Carl, do you have to torture me so? If I owe you, then take your revenge once and for all. Don't nickel and dime me this way. Destroy my portrait. Watch me die of old age.

"I had no choice as to my fate." Carl said coldly "why should you have one? I might well decide to let you live out for years this way."

The serpent had not struck yet, and Carl's features were still visible. Maybe there was still a chance.

"Carl" he pleaded "you were not like this. Yes, you were irritating at times, but never vicious. Not this way. This is not YOU."

Carl seemed to think. "You are begging me? You?"

"What I did to you was rotten."

"You always thought that I was too dumb. You always complained that I was in the way."

"I did not mean it."

"You did!"

"I am sorry, I did not think you'd mind."

"As I would not mind being strangled by Barnabas?"

"Carl!"

"You could always charm your way out of anything, while I... Even if it was your fault, I was blamed for it. You remember how it was with father and mother! They thought the world of you, didn't they?"

Before Quentin could answer, Carl's features blurred and the snake was in front of Quentin ready to strike.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Amy hugged Oriana "I am so glad you came here."

"I... I am glad to see you, Amy" Oriana was still a bit shaky, but now she had begun to accept her condition and make the most of it.

She was a werewolf. A werewolf. Like Chris. Like Tom. No way around it. She knew how to keep it under control, knew what then penalty for failure to do so was.

"She is still in shock" Chris explained to Amy "so don't press for details"

Amy nodded and made tea for the three of them. She would get an account later, from Chris, on what him and Oriana had undergone. And whether or not there was still danger...

* * *

Roger stared out of the window. The melting snow announced the coming of the spring, but there was little willingness in him to welcome it.

Liz was dead. he would never see her again. All that he wanted to share with her, all that he had hoped to recapture... half his life was gone with Liz.

If any of his marriages had lasted... If he and David had been closer...

Yes, he had Edmund and was glad for him. Yet it was not the same. Or maybe he wanted David and Edmund both.

And he had failed Liz. He had failed when he had done nothing to protect her from Paul Stoddard. He had failed to give her the emotional support she needed, often adding his own problems instead.

The misery of those years that he had spent drinking, hiding from Burke Devil's revenge... how he had become so wrapped up in his own misery letting Liz shoulder alone the responsibility of raising David and Carolyn. As if Liz did not have enough misery of her own.

When Liz had needed him he had been hiding behind his brandy. And now, this one last chance he had had to help Liz, he had failed again.

Barnabas had killed her. He had come, in the middle of the night, pushed him aside when he tried to protest, entered Liz's room and shot her.

He wanted to punish him for that, so badly. He had done so much harm already.

But Barnabas was away. And he had done only what Liz had asked. What _he_ should have done instead for his own sister.

* * *

"Peter, what do you see?' Yolanda urged the child.

"Fire... I see fire."

"Anything else?"

Peter seemed to concentrate "It is a strange sort of fire. It is white. And seems kind of... frozen. But it is fire. It can burn like fire. And it seems to be trapped in a box."

"What's the box like?' Yolanda could barely hide her excitement. That box must be the one object she needed to get back the power that she had lost.

"It is a box." Peter's voice was peeved. What's a box supposed to look like except a box? Adults ask the funniest questions.

"A long box? A small one? Does it have anything on it? Of what is it made? Of what color?"

Could this be the Leviathan box? The one in which Barnabas had brought the Leviathan egg? She hoped it was not. She did not want to deal with Leviathans. The memory of how Nicholas Blair had once enslaved her was a good warning. She did this alone, not looking for any allies who might betray her.

"Do you see anything that looks like a snake on the box?

Peter shook his head "No, nothing on the box. It is a metallic box. It has some kind of writing."

Good, one less thing to worry about...

There was another box... the box where Laura had been confined to by Barnabas. She had heard about her... and fire.. wasn't that what Peter had said?

Did she wish to deal with Laura, then? She would be hungry when released. Would she consume her deliverer and allow her to rise a salamander?

No, she would _not_ become a salamander, at Laura's beck and call.

Yet, if this box was something else... if there was any way of knowing what Laura's box was like...

She could not stay here like this, her powers pitifully small. The most that she could accomplish was her control of Peter. And Liz, yes. She had controlled a vampire... only it was such a pitifully weak vampire that it almost did not count. And she had done noting with Liz, really. Just tested her powers and gathered some roots for potions... As a slave, the pain-wrecked Liz was worse than useless.

She would have to find out somehow about the box.

* * *

Hallie looked at her reflection. There was nothing in her that betrayed what she really was. She had walked into the fire of her stove and had been reborn a phoenix. Nobody had known of it. No one suspected that she was not what she pretended to be.

On an impulse, she made flames surge from her fingertips. Yes, she _could_ do it.

Inwardly she felt the reproof that Ra gave her. She had not yet earned her place. She had no slaves to command. She had offered no sacrifices. There was no child born of her body to be given to the fire.

She needed children, yes. And she needed to offer sacrifices to Ra if she was to take Laura's place.

* * *

The snake hissed on top of the stairs.

Quentin froze. It was another dream..

No, it was not. This was reality. No point in pretending doubt.. No point in comforting fictions that proved false in the end...

All he had to do was open his eyes and the snake would be gone...

He should be able this time to escape the pain. Pull his eyelids open. Make an effort to see the sheets in his bed. He could do it...

Only that he could not.

The serpent hissed again, angrily. It was getting impatient.

Just a dream... it was just a dream. Carl had no power outside the dreams.

How could Carl hate him so much?

Carl had told him why...

How could it be stopped? Not by arguments, not by pleading. Any more than Carl's pleadings had saved his life...

He could almost see the snake's eyes. He heard it move and knew that it was ready to strike again. Not in a dream, no. For real.

It could not kill him. His portrait would see to that. But the pain... and this time the pain would not go away quickly as soon as he woke up. No, it would fester for hours...

Then the serpent struck.

* * *

"It gets to you, doesn't it?" Cecily asked him.

"What Amber told me, yes. At least I took her out of it. She has a family who is desperate to get her back. " Barnabas remembered the girl, barely a child that he had picked up, as if he was a client. "she will get back to them, and get her life back."

"A good trade for the blood you took from her, isn't it? You got fed once, and she has her whole life ahead of her. "

"Yes."

"You got the information from her? Who her pimp was?"

"Yes. And how many girls he has, and how he controls them."

"Good. Then you will not get squeamish. when we work him over and train him as a caretaker. As for the other girls, the ones whose families won't take them back, there are places that will help them. Everybody wins."

"Do you like catching pimps?" Barnabas asked, curious.

"It is one of my joys in life. Getting even with creeps that use kids for sex. Like the one who attacked me."

"What happened to him?"

"I killed him."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The pimp's screams echoed in his ears. The children were working him over, and all his pleas and whimpering did not help him.

"He can dish it out, but he can't take it." Cecily said, shrugging."

"Still..." Barnabas was uncomfortable with Cecily's glee.

"He earned it. You ware the one who got the story about him. Don't get squeamish now."

'You enjoy this, don't you?" there was a mild reproof in his words.

"Yes. Look we need caretakers who are wholly reliable. We need to break them so that they do not ever think of betraying us. Better to choose those who deserve it, don't you think?"

"Still..."

"Remember what you were told by Amber. And the other girls had their own stories to tell about him. Not to mention the ones he killed. He _is_ scum. Don't waste pity on him."

"Yes... But screams of pain are screams of pain."

"His girls screamed like that. And he was snot bothered by it. He continued beating them over and over. He cut them He dragged them by their hair. And no matter how they screamed how pitiful they sounded, he kept on. Don't waste pity on those who have none."

"Still."

"You can afford to pity. We can't. It is a hard life that we face. One that makes us accept choices that we do not like. Like me and Verhoff."

"How did you become a patient of his?"

"Is that what he told you? That I was his patient? No, he was a convenience to me. I did not need adjusting. I came into this life long before he was born... It is just that not many men want a lover with a body like mine. He does want it, and with me he does not feel guilty about it."

"I see."

"I would not mind it if he did not try to mold me into a dutiful Viennese daughter of the turn of the century. Every now and them we have this conversation in which I threaten to leave and never return. And he backs off. And we start again. You know, if he had not become a vampire and found us, he might have ended in prison for child molesting..."

"And yet he seems so... knowledgeable."

"He is. He _does_ know a lot, even if some of it is outmoded... The Freudian theory might well have been the Freudian-Verhoffian theory, but it was not to be. He is a good therapist for the children that come to us. It is when the children start thinking like adults that he can become a problem. He does not like it when they do not need him so much, and when they try to become independent. But I stand firm, and I tell him, that there are always new ones coming."

'He's certainly got a lot of quirks."

"So do you."

"I came by them honestly. Being chained in that coffin for over a hundred years gave me a _lot_ of quirks. I got rid of the most serious ones. But I still got plenty to live with. I do not think that he ever went through anything like that."

"No. He just lost a most promising career, and can never publish his findings. He lost contact with colleagues, personal recognition.. all those things that he valued... We all lose things. And we make do with what we have left."

"I suppose that you are right."

She slipped her arm around his waist and kissed him on the mouth."

"Cecily" he said, surprised. "Don't"

"Why?" she did not let him go. "You never tried it with a woman before?

"I have made it with women before." he fought to extricate himself from her embrace.

"And you didn't like it? Maybe they were the wrong girls."

"I liked it fine."

"So why not me?"

"There is nothing wrong with you." he felt her press closer to him, rubbing herself against his body until he reacted to it. She kissed him hungrily over his face, even as he tried to keep his mouth out of her reach.

"Come, let's do it." she asked. "Just a quickie. Come on, who is going to know?"

"I will" With an effort he pushed her away and held her at arm's length."

"But you responded. and you've been away from your boyfriend for quite a while. Certainly you need some release."

"Not this way."

"Is it a boy that you want? You can pretend that I am. I have no hips and no breasts."

"I don't want a boy, either."

"What do you want, then?"

"George. I want sex, but with him. I want to see his face. I want to know that it is him lying next to me."

"You are weird. You mean that you go for faithfulness and all that crap?"

"I do not think that it is crap. I can't expect you to understand, but I actually prefer women to men. Only, George is the one I am in love with."

"You are weird." she repeated "a real weirdo.:

The pimp had finished screaming. He was whimpering now. And would be whimpering a long time...

* * *

Carl's eyes followed him. Soon they would turn into the snake's eyes.

And he would not escape.

He should be glad that Carl had no power to kill him, but he knew that to be no blessing. He was well aware what Carl had done to Barnabas, and that such a fate could befall him. As he had told Angelique, n o one would ever miss him and try to find him.

He tried to imagine what it had been like for Barnabas. He closed his eyes and thought of himself blind, immobile, helpless, unable to hear, mute, lost, alone, frightened...

He opened his eyes, shivering. No, he could not even stand thinking about it.

He remembered his last attempt, with Miss Oates... Overton. And Judah Zachary, the mask...

The mask... something whispered to him. the mask still had power.. the mask could still protect him.

And he knew that the mask had been buried. He remembered now where they had buried it...

He had to go find it...

* * *

"Barnabas" Julia said over the phone. "You should be back here."

"Why? Anything wrong?"

"No. Something's right. Vicky's about due. Do you want to be here when the baby is born or not?"

All his problems were solved. Now he had a good excuse to leave, and get away from Cecily. Later he would find excellent excuses for not coming back.

Anyway, Cecily and the others had access to Julia's notes. He hoped that Julia had made extra copies. The more they knew about it, the more they could experiment, and the sooner Cecily could get the body she craved, and the sooner she would be easier to deal with."

* * *

Quentin checked the flashlight. The battery was good for several hours. He should be back before then. He only had to get into the cave and find the spot where they had buried the shattered mask... he had seen them do it, hadn't he?"

Shattered as it was, Zachery's spirit had departed from it. But it still held power. Maybe enough to banish Carl forever.

He reached the caves. He had come this way not so long ago and found Angelique in the cage. The night was still and unseasonably warm. He could hear the night birds, the insects and the bats. He wondered if they were real bats, or if any of them was Barnabas, or Megan, or Pearce. But what would they be doing in here? They had better to do than patrol and empty cave. And they were not following him. No one was concerned with his doings.

He found then place where the cage was. Just as he had left it, after the struggle. Or did it?... His memory was suddenly hazy...

But he remembered this much. The mask was buried there.

He saw the mound, right in the middle of the cage. He did not doubt anymore.

He dug into the mound. He broke his fingernails, but he got it done.

Only it was not the mask that he uncovered, but a small bag

There was a letter in the bag.

"Step into my parlor" said the spider to the fly Carl."

Behind him was a sharp metallic noise. He turned quickly, but it was too late. The door was closed., locking him in. The key turned, then disappeared, reappearing a few feet away where he could not reach it.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Quentin shook the bars, screaming. They were strong and they would not give in. He picked a couple of stones and began battering at them.

"Let me out! You can't keep me in here!"

Finally he gave up. He sat down on the ground and began to sob. He wondered if this was what Carl had felt when locked in the secret room, waiting for Barnabas to rise.

But this was worse... the taunting, the cat and mouse game. He had never done anything like this..

It was then that he heard the footsteps approaching.

He shouted, trying to attract whoever was there.

It was Adam Deale Atwater.

"Please, let me out" he begged Adam. "I got myself locked in and..."

Adam looked at him mockingly "And why should I release you after all the trouble I went to get you here?"

* * *

Yolanda laid the instruments of her craft before her. It as a pity that she had not a teacher to guide her, that she had to learn it all by herself. If only... no, no use hoping for the impossible. At last she had some memory of what Zachary had taught her.

She just had to do with what she had. Don't give in to the temptation to ask for help. She knew better than to trust Nicholas Blair by now. As for Angelique, forget it. She might be gracious enough to accept an explanation of possession, but she was not so stupid as to teach anything from her craft to Yolanda.

And she was right in distrusting her, for Yolanda was the legitimate heir of her uncle, Schuyller Rumsen, not Angelique, the bigamist.

It had to be that box. If it was not Laura's. If it was not a living entity that would devour her them moment that it was set free, she'd go looking for it.

First she chanted the spell to make Iris fall into a deep sleep, then brought Peter with her.

"What are we doing?" Peter asked.

"You are sleeping, Peter." she put her hand over Peter's eyes and they closed "You are dreaming this. You will wake up and not remember any of this."

She undressed Peter and anointed him. She did the same for herself. she drew a five pointed star on the floor and made Peter sit in the middle of it.

She stood over Peter, her hands to his temples.

"Now, Peter, remember the box you saw the other day? Think of it. We are going to look for it. You are going to guide me in my way till we know what is inside.

They floated together in the air. Yolanda began to focus her eyes, to see what Peter was seeing.

She saw the box. It was metallic, yes. Seemingly plain. But if you looked hard you could see that what looked like scratches were instead a kind of writing.

They were now in a giant library. Yellowed parchment rose in front of them. They unrolled themselves and allowed themselves to be read.

It was not Laura inside the box. Not a living entity. There were jewels in it. Jewels that had power of their own.

They glided back into the room. Yolanda shook herself. She was back. She had done it. She had found a source of power.

She helped Peter up, dressed him and led him out. He would not remember the experience, and if he did, he would think of it as a dream.

* * *

"You see, Mr. Collins" Adam explained. "we do share the same problem. Charles Delaware Tate painted both our portraits. You have seen the effect it has on you and what the hidden costs are. It robs you of the chance to grow, to evolve, to become something better than what you already are. Charles allowed for change in my case. He knew that I would need guile to survive, so he painted it in. He knew that my scars had to be removed, so he painted them out. I was allowed to develop, but only in the direction that was mapped for me. You did not even have that." he became thoughtful "Charles knew what he had done to you and regretted it. He would not paint another portrait. He painted mine only because he could not help me otherwise. He wished that there was another way. And maybe I have found the other way."

He set down an easel, the put Quentin's portrait on it. He had stolen it form Collinwood with Angelique's help.

"What are you going to do with it?"

"I want to reverse Charles' process until we are both free. Unhappily I can't have myself as a guinea pig, because I can paint out my ability to paint. It has to be you. Calm down, Mr. Collins." he said as Quentin began pounding at the bars. "Just sit down and hope for the best. If this thing works I will release you. It is in your advantage that I succeed, after all."

"You can't keep me here, They'll miss me."

"They'll think that you skipped town. You had reason to. Decided that you could not take your marriage any more. And who would blame you?"

That stung Quentin. It shouldn't. But he could not stand the idea of people knowing the terms of his marriage.

"Mr. Collins, I do not wish you ill." Adam's tone was conciliatory. "I am solving a problem we both have. If I succeed, you will have another chance in life."

* * *

The sign attracted Hallie's attention. Madame Zalisky, palm reader, card reader. Five dollars. Hallie smiled pityingly. Amateur at best. Or just a fake, a hustler.

But Madame Zalisky could be of use, indeed. If one knew how to go about it.

She entered the shop and was greeted by a dark haired, dark skinned young woman.

Halle sized her. Some residual power here, not much.

The woman laid down the cards for her. She interpreted them. Hallie tried not to laugh. She had gotten it all wrong. Still that tale of broken hearts and troubles at work would be recognized by many as true. She was playing the percentages. Then people would begin to volunteer information so that Madame Zalisky could indeed be very accurate in describing her client's predicament.

"Somebody put a curse on you. Somebody who works with you. It is a woman who wishes you ill."

And after that, the client would ask if the curse could be removed. It could. For a price.

"Not bad, Madame Zalisky" she said. "too bad that you had to run into the real thing."

Madame Zalisky looked at her with surprise. What had she meant by that? Then she felt her wrist being caught in Hallie's grip and she felt her body move, without her willing it, until she was face to face with Hallie, looking at her in the eyes.

Hallie's eyes...

She tried to fight it, to run away, but she was paralyzed. She saw the fire rise and envelop Hallie's face, then subside again.

"Yes. Madame Zalisky. You ran into the real thing."

She tried to move her tongue, to make any kind of sound.

"No, Madame Zalisky, it is useless. You can't resist."

Halle's hand rested on her temple. A bolt of pain transfixed her.

"No. I will not sacrifice you. You will be useful to me in other ways. You will obey me, Madame Zalisky. What is your first name?"

"Zo... Zoya." she managed to say.

"Well, Zoya Zalisky. You serve a phoenix now."

* * *

Urien was there, waiting for him.

"How was your trip?" he asked, a bit sourly.

"Not bad."

"Was it interesting?"

"Very. A bit depressing. All those children... It is fascinating. And saddening."

"I wish I could have seen it."

"No. You would not have liked it at all. It would have been very dangerous for you, since they are still learning self-control But I can understand your missing me."

Urien looked down. "I am not complaining."

"No. You have the right. I have made myself responsible for you then I ran out on a completely different project. I ran out on practically everybody. Once I was there I seemed to forget all about Collinsport and the people here. I even forgot about Vicky's baby, which is due soon. I am sorry, Urien. I am not perfect. I do get fired up all of a sudden about something new, then I forget that other people exist and that I have made commitments to them. I have to learn to do better."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Have you heard that in some places they allow the father inside the delivery room? That some doctors say that it is beneficial to the couple?"

"So?" Taft tried to keep his equanimity, which wasn't easy. He did not like laymen who presumed to teach him his trade, and Barnabas Collins was worse than most. He read a few articles, and he became an instant authority.

"So you don't think I could be allowed in?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"For one thing, I do not believe that touchy-feely stuff. For another, you are not her husband."

"But Doctor..."

"Why couldn't Doctor Hoffman teach you your place:? I am the doctor, and you are just a kibitzer. Please do not bother me."

* * *

Carolyn knew that she should not be doing this, that she should pull her shoulder away from Adam's head, but she did not. She reminded herself of all the anger that had come between her and her mother. She owed to herself to pull away.

"You want this, don't you, Carolyn?' Adam whispered.

So self-assured, with more than a hint of cynicism. With an undercurrent of deception. Yet, under all she could still sense the old Adam in him. the one that she had pitied, the one that she had learned to love...

Yes, Adam had changed. But so had she... and not for the better...

It was Adam who had changed her...

He drew her close and he kissed her.

"Dear Carolyn, you know that we were meant for each other."

She tried to protest again, but she did not find the words for it.

She wanted Adam. If nothing else, because she had been waiting for him all those years in bitterness.

"Is it yes, then, Carolyn?"

She nodded and he lifted her. He carried her to the couch. She laid down, her arms bringing Adam closer to her, holding her breath in expectation.

"Oh, Adam" she said. "I waited so long for this."

* * *

The temple of Ra, she called it. Zoya herself called it the over. Not aloud, of course. And indeed it was both of them. And Zoya knew that one day she might be required to step into it. Unless Hallie herself did, with her children.

But there were not children yet, and sacrifices had to be made to Ra in the meantime.

Laura had done this. That was how she obtained salamanders. But only if they came into the fire willingly, even if it involved deception of her part. If they were unwilling, they would join her enemies and bring about her downfall.

And after the fire had consumed them, she would construct simulacra of them, to walk the earth for a short time then die of undetermined causes that doctors would attribute to a congenital heart condition, or pneumonia, or Legionnaire's disease. No one would know that hey had been dead for days.

Zoya Zalisky would help lure the victims. "Any client desperate enough would be invited to join in an ancient Egyptian rite that would solve their problems for good.

(Was it Egyptian? or was it Babylonian, or Phoenician? Murdoch was a form of Marduk, one of the names of Baal.. Why he chose to be called Ra and pose as an Egyptian was a mystery...)

"Do you have any doubts?" Hallie asked Zoya.

"No, Mistress."

"Good. Be faithful and you shall be rewarded."

Suspecting what the reward would be, Zoya determined to do her best to postpone it indefinitely.

* * *

Adam ground gold dust form Zachary's mask. He would mix it with paint so that he could somehow duplicate Charles' power. He had to be careful in handling it. He could still attract the warlock's spirit, and end up possessed by him.

The memory of his last night with Carolyn now had a bittersweet aftertaste. She had given into the moment, overcome by memories...had been weak.. But would she want him again? He knew of several good reasons why she would not.

He needed this thing he was doing to work. He would retain Charles' gift of freedom from Barnabas and the scars. Let Quentin remain free of the werewolf curse, and do not let him look his true age. But let no more changes be transferred to the portrait after that. Let both of them age in the fashion of normal men.

Quentin sat sullenly in the corner of the cage, having finished his meal of hamburger and fries. He did not know yet about Adam and Carolyn. And if he had, it would not have improved his disposition.

"I know that you hate me, Collins" Adam spoke softly "but as I told you before, I am the only change you have of a normal life."

Quentin grumbled.

"You don't like what you are. You don't like the fact that you can't be anything else no matter how you wish it. You don't like the fact that trying is useless."

Quentin turned his back on Adam, who continued talking.

"I know. I once was innocent, trusting, kind. I could not have done then to Carolyn and Elizabeth what I did. I would not have used them as pawns against Barnabas. But what Charles created with his brushes could. He was afraid for me. Being kind and innocent is a good way to get cut to pieces in this world, so he changed that... changed it too much, but he did not live to see it... I want to get back what I lost. And you want to gain what you never had.

Quentin muttered something.

"Don't be childish" Adam remonstrated him. "I am doing this for you benefit, too."

Quentin did not turn back.

"No, I guess you can't help being childish."

* * *

Still dazed by her previous night with Adam, Carolyn received Barnabas. She was now having second thoughts, and it came out as embarrassment when he came in.

Barnabas thought he knew why she was uncomfortable. Last time he had been here, he had shot Liz, and Carolyn may not have forgiven him yet.

Still, a condolence call was in order.

"I know you had to do it." she said, with a strained voice.

"You loved your mother very much, and she loved you."

"We had so little time..."

"There is never enough."

"And we might have none, if you had not insisted that she come back to Collinsport... I had her longer than I could have expected... And still it is not enough"

She broke into sobs and he took her in his arms. He let her cry. He had not seen her so vulnerable for such along time...

"What... what did she tell you.. before...""

"Before I shot her?: Not much. She just thanked me. And I knew that if we started talking, I would lose my nerve. So I just aimed and pulled the trigger... Then it was done..."

"She was dead.:

"She no longer was in pain. Carolyn, think of it that way. She is no longer in pain. And she is probably in a better place."

Carolyn broke her embrace and decided to talk about what really concerned her.

"I can imagine a lot of better places than Collinwood" she said with grim humor. "Do you know that Vicky is angry with me? She left, and is now working for Megan. She said some wounding things..."

"She felt betrayed. Not just herself but her child."

Carolyn gave a bitter laugh. "Well, we did not treat her any worse than any other governess hired by the Collinses. At least she came out alive, unlike others."

"Well, I know that Phyllis Wick and Rachel Drummond died... of course, Vicky replace Phyllis, and she kind of got lost in time..."

"But they were not the only ones. There was a reason why when Vicky disappeared into then past mother hired Maggie Evans. All employment agencies have blacklisted us. The last one we hired from them ran away after Roger tried to murder her. He said it was only one incident, but I suspect there were more... Well, that was the last straw as far as the employment agencies were concerned. No more governesses for us."

"Except Vicky"

"Mother managed to hire Vicky with the promise of telling her about her real family. And by having help defray her costs as the foundling home...If not, they would have told her to avoid Collinsport like the plague... I hired Ms. Oates... or Overton, only because she was snooping about Cassandra..."

"Which means that you cannot hire a new governess for Edmund."

"No. I will have to put him in school. There is fine private school, where Roger went after he tried to kill his governess. He hated it, he said. but then, what would you expect? David went there, until he was expelled... We are getting a terrible reputation in educational circles, I am afraid."

"Are you going to send him there?"

"Except that Roger is throwing a fit. He wants Edmund to go to the village school."

"They have a good school, even if it is for the children of the villagers."

"In any case, I want you to negotiate with Vicky .Not come back, but give her some private lessons to Edmund. She can set her own hours, and live in town. This way I can feel better about Edmund going to public school."

"I will talk to her, but don't put your hopes up. She is still very sore.:"

"I understand. But try anyway..."

"Did you make her a settlement, or are you holding it up as a negotiating ploy?"

"No. Megan handled it, and she made sure that it was done quickly and with no fuss..."

"Then it is up to me. I am not sure how much good that will do."

"Tell me, who is paying for David's college? I knew mother was doing it."

"He's using the settlement money, plus what he earns."

"I would like to give him something. As a gift."

"He does not need a gift. He needs to know that he has to work hard for what he gets. But if you want to make a gift in memory of your mother, I can tell you of places, here and overseas that can use the money."

Carolyn smiled She should have expected this, Barnabas making a pitch for some charity or other. He had not done this to her before, but h was now going to start. As they said, Barnabas was always putting the bite on you, one way or the other.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Pearl was around one year old. It was amazing that she had once been a tiny baby, looking so much like other babies. now she was developing a personality of her own. Part from her father, part from her mother, and part just her own.

Barnabas felt a twinge seeing her. Pearl had nothing from him. No child had.

His child by Priscilla had been murdered by Laura (and he had helped murder them by his neglect.) He had bastards that he did not acknowledge, just let his father handle the details of providing some minimum help to the mother.

Or done nothing, as was with the line he had started that led to Tammy. Too many generations of bitterness separated them. They could never be family. God only knew if they could even be friends...

He could love Phillip and Vicky's child, but it was not his face that he could see reflect in it. Same with Urien. He loved him, but was no son of his body...

No child of flesh would ever be in his arms...

To make up for all the ones he could have held, and did not..

Pearl climbed up his pants leg. "Candy:?" she asked "candy?"

He dug into his pockets for some.

"You are spoiling her." Willie grumbled..

* * *

David crossed over to Hallie's table.

"Fancy meeting you here, of all places."

Hallie laughed. "Come on, David. This place is not precisely a backwater. It has a University and a Concert Hall. And people willing to listen to opera, and opera singers, even if the singers are not first rate."

"One day you will be a first rate singer."

"Maybe. But the people that matter are not aware of it yet."

"They will. And if they don't, the more fools they."

Hallie smiled and squeezed his hand. "Thanks, David. I need a shot in the arm every now and then. We artists are approval junkies. We have to find someone to tell us how great we are, day in and day out."

"We all do."

"Yes. But with us it is worse. I guess that it has to do with the uncertainty of being an artist. It is a job that can pay very well if you do a lot of it, but if you don't do much, it is tough. And if you do not get any work, if you are unemployed too long... we don't know what the next week will be like. It is nerve wracking and does not allow for self-confidence, only self-absorption."

David nodded at that..

"I wonder if I have what it takes for a career as a singer. Yes. I have the voice, but I am not sure that I have the temperament. At times I can't help thinking of how nice a steady paycheck sounds."

David nodded again. "I've had enough of the bohemian life myself. Me and Amy, before Barnabas straightened us up."

"How's Barnabas?"

"Quite well. He's adopted a boy. A teenager."

"He did?"

"Yes. A hustler. Barnabas has this thing about rehabilitating hopeless cases. Which was lucky for me. And evidently it is lucky for Urien."

"A hustler? You mean a male prostitute?"

"Yes. Referred to him by the sheriff."

Hallie almost giggled. She knew enough of George Brant's habits and desires. And she had known that it was only a matter of time before Barnabas succumbed to Brant's charms. Why did they want the boy? To make it a threesome? Oh, well, as long as neither Barnabas nor Brant interfered with her plans, she was willing to let them be.

"Is he still mad at me?"

"No. Why should he be?"

"The things I did the last time I was there..."

"He knows that it was not your fault. And anyway, everybody else did something of the sort."

* * *

"I wish that Petofi had written more of what he knew about Charles's talent. Well, maybe he didn't have the chance for it." Adam said. "Do you know what happened to him:? Do you care?"

Quentin shook his head "As long as he is dead..."

"Yes. He's dead. It was a long gypsy ritual. They got the hand back and they executed him for the murders of King Johnny Romano, his wife's, and Julianka's... Say, you are not eating..."

Quentin grumbled.

"I got you pizza with everything. Even anchovies. Do you actually like them?"

"I'd like to get out of here."

"You can't. Not while I am not done. Just eat your food. And you can have beer, too. All you have to do is ask."

"No, no beer. Thanks."

Quentin munched tentatively on the pizza.

"You like it?" Adam sounded somewhat concerned.

Quentin nodded

"I know that you feel like sulking. I would too, in your position. But I wish you were more... cooperative."

"Why do you need my cooperation? You got me caged in here, is that not enough?"

"I thought that we could be more pleasant to each other."

"You did not precisely request my cooperation. And what of Carl? You set him on me. Do you plan to deliver me to him afterwards?

"Making your peace with your brother might take some doing. You did a terrible thing to him... I never had a brother you see. I envy those who do. And you, who had one, who had more than one... Carl worshipped you. How could you?"

"I didn't think that Barnabas would kill him."

"Yes. You didn't think it through. What did you expect Barnabas to do?"

"What he did with Beth, with Charity. He could have just bitten him and forced to keep silent about what he knew."

"But he didn't. He just killed him."

"I did not think he would." Quentin repeated.

"Did you regret it?"

"Yes."

"But not enough to demand an accounting of Barnabas."

"It was my only chance to be free of my own curse. I could not live the way I was doing."

"Why not kill yourself, then?"

Quentin shrugged again."

"No, you could not. You loved life too much. Didn't you think that Carl loved life, too? Didn't you think that he deserved better than what he got?


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"And what are you doing now? Quentin asked. He had sulked for a whole day, then had gotten bored with it.

"The same as before, Trying to nullify the effects of the portrait."

"With me as guinea pig, of course."

"I don't care to find out if I restored my dependency on Barnabas. You, if something goes wrong, I can fix it. There is danger that I might restore the werewolf curse to you. That's why I reinforced the bars. Then I can reverse the effect, if that happens.

"You seem quite sure of yourself."

"I have done quite a reading of Petofi's diary. And I have gold dust from the mask."

"You got Petofi's diary?"

"He did write one. You were probably too busy chasing women to notice that it was kind of a best-seller in occult literature. Specialized bookstores and all that. Paid plenty for it. Anyway, Petofi gets to discuss quite at length what it would take to use a portrait to make selective changes. You see, Quentin, your portrait was what you'd call a pilot project. Petofi planned to refine the process. He wrote down the theory for it, but he did not get the chance to set up the experiments, which is unlucky for both of us, since we will have to take our chances with my skills."

"I will be the one taking the chances."

"I am taking chances too. You are my only chance for a normal life. We can get both in trouble, my friend."

"I am not your friend."

"I hope to change that." Adam smiled philosophically "I am afraid that both of us have shortcomings as friends. We will have to make do."

Quentin did not answer that. He hated to admit it, but Adam had a point. he knew only too well the self-disgust that had been his lot thanks to that portrait that had seemed once a heaven sent gift.

"You hate me now. I understand. I hate myself, too. But I can become something else and so will you. Surely you can try to be friendly on account of the future.."

"The future isn't here now."

* * *

The girl looked eager enough. Hallie studied her with a mixture of curiosity and pity. The things that people believed in. That a complete stranger would tell them how to find order in her life, tell her how to be happy. That the stranger would be powerful, yet well-intentioned. That such a service would be cheap.

No one would recognize her under the makeup that disguised her face and hair. She looked very much like another gypsy. Just like Zoya, in fact.

"Cut the cards" Zoya instructed the girl.

The girl did so, gulping.

"Are you ready for the exorcism?'

The girl nodded.

It was not enough. The girl had to speak her consent for what would be done. It need to be tricked out of her, so that she could be called a willing sacrifice.

She nodded towards Zoya, who gritted her teeth and repeated the words that Hallie had instructed her to say "Are you willing to put yourself in our hands? Are you willing to do what must be done? Are you willing to give what might be required of you?"

The girl said yes to all the questions. She was willing.

"Then come with my child. Enter the sanctuary" Zoya said, opening the door of the oven.

* * *

"It will not work" Carolyn protested, pulling away from Adam.

"Why not?" Adam asked softly.

"I could say that I am a married woman and that you are my stepfather. But that would not be true."

"So what is the problem?" Adam knew the answer. He had been preparing for it. "What's wrong, my love?" he kissed her softly.

She pulled away again. " You. You have changed."

"Have I?"

"You used to be so... so innocent. So sweet."

"We all change, dear. You, me, everybody. Unless it is Barnabas or Quentin."

"You are a stranger to me, Adam. The Adam I remember would not act this way."

"You want me the way I was then? A pitiful monster, with you the only one to care for me?"

"Of course not. But there has to be some part of you that I can recognize. I know how much you have improved. But you seem to have lost much, too."

"Years can do that to you."

He could argue about it, try to talk her out of it. But she was right. He did not like himself. Why did he expect her to like him?

What he was doing with Quentin should better work.

"At least are you willing to give me time? Are you willing to try to get to know me better?"

* * *

"Elections are going to be interesting this year" Buffy commented.

Frank guffawed at that. "Yes. All over the country you can hear the lamentations of the Republicans who are up for reelection.. Who would have believed that two years ago? Then everybody was talking about Reagan's' mandate. Well, if he does not improve his performance, his mandate will be taken away from him, like that. I can't say that I am sorry about it."

"I am thinking of joining the campaign as a volunteer."

Fran's expression changed. "For whom? Margaret Evans?"

"She's a ranking Democrat, isn't she?""

Frank fought with himself. It only it was someone else. he had had dealings with Representative Evans, and remembered it well. He also remembered what she had done to Barnabas. She was, to put it politely, not one of his favorite people, Democrat or not.

On the other hand, she was no better and no worse than a lot of other politicians. And the name of the game was getting the Republicans out.

"All right. Have fun. Unhappily, I can't do that myself."

"I might talk to Barnabas. He used to work for her, didn't he?"

"Yes. Even if he'd like to forget about that."

* * *

"How is it coming? Is it over yet? Barnabas asked the nurse for the umpteenth time.

"She is still in labor. Doctor Taft is with her. Why not sit down and take it easy?"

"But why does it take so long? Isn't it unusual?"

"Not at all. It is well within the limit. Now, be a good boy and sit down " she guided him to a chair "just relax and let us do. And if you don't behave we will have to calm you down, you realize."

Willie grinned. "Don't push it. They know how to handle nervous prospective fathers. Or adoptive uncles, for that matter."

"But Vicky..." Barnabas' expression changed to something between blissful and scared. "Vicky and her baby. I can't believe it."

Willie chuckled. "You sound the way I did when Louella had Pearl. I wish you could see yourself now."

"Yes. Pearl... she's growing up fast, isn't she?"

"Yes. She's reaching the stage when she won't stay put. We are looking forward to some hectic times."

"I am aware of that... I somehow dropped out of it, what with going with Verhoff... I fell I neglected all of you."

"You had something important to do didn't you?"

"Yes, but..."

"Barnabas, Pearl has a mother and a father. You are neither. You are a friend, a good friend, but your time is your own."

Barnabas made a face.

"Look, don't take offense, but if I don't watch out, you'll spoil her rotten."

The clock ticked. Barnabas stole another nervous glance at it.

"Does it always take this long?"

"Sometimes longer. Come on, Barnabas. You know what Taft said about complications. It is not as if it was Carolyn's child by Jeb."

"Couldn't' I at least be there? In some places they allow the father in the delivery room."

"But your are not the father."

"Just what Taft told me. That and the did not interfere with my patients, and that I should not interfere with his."

Willie guffawed at that.

They stopped talking. The nurse was coming to them again.

"It is a boy" she said. "both mother and child are doing fine."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"How are you doing now?" This time Adam's voice held real concern. There was no taunting as there had been at first. Quentin was no longer the prey but a fellow sufferer. A comrade in misfortune, and with whom he shared a common goal.

Quentin shook his head. He did not feel conciliatory at all, even if it might be wiser if he did.

"No. I don't think that you are feeling very well." Adam felt oddly touched by Quentin's childishness. He had been an overgrown baby once, too.

He never had a real family. Could he make Quentin, if not into a brother, then into a friend?

"Tonight we are going to find how well we are doing" Adam continued "Are you impatient?"

Quentin shook his head. For some reason he felt dizzy. Ever since Adam had begun painting he had felt this way. As if parts of himself were being torn out, twisted, and put back in. It was not painful. Maybe the pain would come later, and maybe that would not be the worst of it.

Suppose that Adam succeeded. The portrait had shielded him for so long. It had spared him much, physically and emotionally. And now he might lose that protection. yes, he was caught, like a fly in amber, but he was protected too...

* * *

"It is a very beautiful baby. Have you got a name for him?" Barnabas asked Vicky.

"Yes. Phillip, like his father." Vicky smiled, taking Barnabas' hand in hers. "But his middle name will be Barnabas. Phillip Barnabas Todd."

"I... I never had a child named after me."

"Well, it is about time you did."

He turned to the sleeping baby. So small, so wrinkled, so helpless... he studied the little delicate head, the fine hair covering it, the pug nose, the tiny hands. So tiny, so fragile looking."

He could understand Vicky's fury at Liz and Carolyn for threatening her son. At this moment, he shared it.

He would not talk to Vicky of Carolyn's offer. It would not work, and she would be angry with him. Some wounds cut too deep. Later, there would be time for healing. But not now.

Nothing must happen to this baby. Nothing.

"Do you think that Phillip might still be alive?" Vicky asked, all of a sudden.

He did not want to give her false hope, but still... "We gave him up for dead in 1979, and he came back... Who knows, it might happen again. Just might happen."

"But it is not very likely, is it?"

He spread out his hands, saying nothing.

* * *

"What time is it? " David asked without lifting his head.

Hallie's naked arm caught the alarm clock and looked at it. "It is almost seven" she announced.

"Seven?" David forced himself to get up. "I am going to be late for classes."

He sat down and dressed as Hallie put an arm around his waist.

"What would happen if you missed classes?"

David shook his head and disengaged himself. "I have to be there. It is bad enough when I get sick. I am too old to play hooky."

"Not even for me?' Hallie got halfway up.

"Not even for you." David said firmly "you don't get good grades by staying in bed."

"And you don't want to disappoint Barnabas?"

"I don't want to disappoint myself." he bent over her and kissed her. "I want to qualify for a scholarship."

Hallie tried to protest, but thought better of it.

"I can't act like a kid anymore. I lost too much time already in the drug scene. I want to make something of myself."

"But you are Roger Collins' son."

David laughed. "I am not his son anymore. He disinherited me. and I got a cash settlement in exchange of not contesting the will. And even if I was, I want better than that."

"Still, your aunt must have left you something."

"Barnabas is the trustee. He will not let me have it so that I can throw it around." he grinned, a bit bitterly " are you disappointed?'

"Disappointed? Why?"

"Well, you'd not be the first gold-digger who thought I was a prospect."

Hallie shook her head. "I never thought of you that way."

He shook his head, too. "Maybe no, and maybe yes." he finished dressing. "Well, see you around."

* * *

There was a dull throbbing in him. Almost pain. And the sensation of being under water.. deep under water, and the pressure was decreasing slowly as he came up. And a sense of unreality...

He looked at the cell, at Adam painting, on the other side of the bars.

"Let's see what this does." Adam said.

He stared numbly as Adam applied the paint. The he doubled up, howling in pain.

"Ooops!" Adam said. "wrong stroke! You are getting old too fast."

Quentin looked at hiss hands. They were becoming gnarled, and the joints ached... all his body was aching...

Was this what growing old felt like? He tried to speak and was surprised by the change in his voice.

"Don't worry. I will fix it now."

A lock of hair fell between his eyes. White. He clutched at it as his eyes began to cloud over.

'Hurry up, will you?' he shouted at Adam.

"Be patient. I said that I would fix it, and I will."

Several minutes later he felt the strength return to him, felt the aches leave him, began to see clearly again.

"I told you that I would fix it, didn't I?'

Quentin nodded. "Yes, you did." he was too scared now to try to defy Adam now.

'Let me have your hand, please."

"What for?

"I want to wound it. It is part of an experiment in scar removal."

"No!" Quentin shouted putting both hands behind him.

"Would you rather I scarred your face? Come on, Quentin, Stop playing games. You know that you have to cooperate with me."

Quentin sighed and thrust his hand through the bars. Adam caught it.

"This will hurt a bit." he said. "But look at it this way. It is a small price to pay for freedom. And not just from this cell."

* * *

"It is a beautiful baby" Barnabas told Willie as they looked at little Phillip through the glass. "Too bad that he has to grow up without a father."

Willie made a face. "I don't know about that. I grew up with a father, and much good it did me."

Barnabas nodded. Yes, Loomis, Sr. was not the kind of man who had either the talent or the willingness to be a father.

"I got a letter from him." Willie blurted out "Seems he found out that I am doing well, and wants to come over, to live with me. Or rather off me. Says it is my duty as his son to help him now that he's down on his luck. Now... When I was a kid he drank his paycheck and beat us all. He was gone for days on end. We were hungry most of the time, and he did not care. And now I have to be a dutiful son! Now he demands, not asks, demands, that I take care of him!"

Barnabas shook his head. "He's probably had a rough time himself."

"Yeah, maybe. But why couldn't he remember that I was his son before, when I could have used some help? When I was in jail, for example?"

Barnabas said nothing to this.

"Yes, he must have had a rough life. I can understand that and feel sympathy. But only as a human being... Not as my father... As my father I owe him nothing. But you will insist that he is a fellow human being in need, and to help him because of that... Damn it, why does it have to be me?"

Barnabas' smile was even more bitter than that of Willie.

"I was wondering what I'd do if I got a letter from my own father. Whether I would be willing to help him, even as a fellow human being in need."

"I guess we both had rotten fathers.. It is a miracle that we turned as well as we did, eh?"

Barnabas nodded. "What will you tell him?'

"I wills send him some money, so that at least he can have something to eat and a place to sleep. But he is not coming over to live with me."

"He is an old man now. And you are strong. You don't have to be afraid of him anymore."

"I don't want him around."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

When the moon rose, Quentin would change. Quentin waited. Adam waited. They held their breaths. Would the change occur? Or would it be something else? It depended on how accurate Adam's overpainting was.

Quentin managed to look at his portrait. Adam had placed a few brushstrokes strategically over it. Would they do the trick? How could Adam be so sure?

He felt anger again at the way Adam was using him. Yet also a yearning. If it should work, if he would be free of the paining, if he could get on with his life, at last...

How he yearned for a simple, ordinary life, and the other yearnings too, that were crowding in him to the point that his body felt like it was about to explode.

Adam looked at him again and felt sympathy. The poor bastard, to live this long, and still not have a life of his own... that was what could happen to him if he did not succeed in breaking Charles's spell.

And guiltily, he thought of Carl, because he had promised Quentin to Carl, and now he did not want to do it.

The first light of the moon broke over the horizon. Quentin could not see it, but he knew it was there. It was a knowledge that he had tried to forget for more than a hundred years. He remembered the first time, when he had not known yet what it meant. How he had found out and what it had cost him to get rid of it.

Another stab of pain and another. He could not mistake it. It was not his imagination. He as changing, just as he had done ever since that night when Magda's curse reached him.

Fleetingly, he thought of Magda/ Tough and bitter. She had lost everything. And it was his fault.

The plain exploded in him. He had time to recognize the first symptoms of the change, then he lost consciousness.

Adam watched. He held his breath. He had done it. He had nullified one of the painting powers. Would he be allowed to selectively change other things?

The man-wolf got up slowly, painfully. Then it threw itself against the bars, growling, and reaching with its paws between the bars.

Adam stared at the stout-nailed paws, at the reddened eye and the slavering fangs. He shivered. It could not get loose, could it? The bars were secure enough. And it could not reach him either.

Still he brought the easel away from the cell. He painted again, watching the beast after each brushstroke, trying to notice if there was any color change in the fur.

The wolf was young. he had not tampered with age, this time. And with a few more brushstrokes the wolf was gone, and Quentin was back. Still young looking.

"I've done it again. We are getting somewhere."

* * *

"Have you seen Quentin?" George asked Barnabas "I worry that he may be trying something."

"I have not seen him for several days. Did not think much of it, as he could be around in daytime hours."

"Well, I have not seen him. And ever since he tried to kill you, I've kept my eye on him."

"Well, I would to worry about it. He may be gone from town. He always wanted to leave."

"Why didn't he?'

"Carolyn would not let him. But now Adam is romancing Carolyn, and Carolyn is responding. So she may have set him free, and he is gone.. I wish him luck."

"I cannot figure Adam out " George confessed "First the mother and then the daughter."

"It has to do with his getting back at me. People have figured out that the best way to hurt me is through the people I care about. Roxanne did that to Phillip. Trask and the others did that to Willie... and Julia did that on herself..."

"It is a pity about Liz and Carolyn, though. They hurt each other terribly."

"And now Adam wants to start over."

"Was he like this in the beginning?'

"No. he was like a child. My child" Barnabas shrugged "I never took responsibility for him. He was just a means to an end. It would be a while before I stopped seeing more in people than means to an end. Not just Adam... Julia and Willie... at some time they became people I cared about...no too soon, not too easily.. It would be quite a while before I stopped hurting those who cared for me... It took a while for me to convince myself that other people _did_ care for me, even if I did not deserve it..."

"Ah, well, those days are gone. You had to learn and you did it the hard way."

"Yes. But when I think of all the missed opportunist with Adam. I wish we could be friends. But I know that I will never be... "

* * *

Adam had left again. He had brought enough food and water to last for a couple of days. Not that he expected to be away that long, but should anything happen, he would have enough until Angelique realized something was wrong and released Quentin.

Although nothing could happen to Adam, thanks to his own painting, he could still be delayed. It would not hurt to take extra precautions.

Quentin thought of how Adam's mood had changed ever since he had been imprisoned in the cell. At first he had been cocky and taunting. Then he had come to confide in him and to have some sort of affection for his captive.

Like a brother. Like the brother Adam never had.

And in a sense they were brothers. They were the children of Charles Delaware Tate.

He chewed on the food, looking wistfully at the bars.

He missed Adam. He was company of a sort. And when he spoke, it as of the same things he thought and dreamed about. Things that he had never shared with anybody. No one else, except Adam, knew what slavery to the portrait meant. Sometimes, when Adam spoke, it was as if he was talking to himself.

If only he had not been tricked into this cell. If he was not being kept a prisoner...

Yet if Adam had offered this to him, would he have accepted? Or would he have been too afraid to try? Would he have trusted Adam that much?

He knew himself too well. And Adam knew him too. He might want something, and struggle for it, provided it did not take too long. He was incapable of sustained effort. There was no patience in him. It had not been part of his nature when Charles had painted his portrait, so he had never acquired it.

But Adam had it, along with other less desirable qualities..

He felt a heaviness in his breast. And somehow he knew it had to be grief.

"Jenny" he thought... Poor, sad Jenny. Bitter, empty Magda. Amanda. Beth... suddenly their names came to him and their faces. All those he had hurt, knowingly or unknowingly...

Carl. His hurt eyes when he understood what his brother was doing to him...

Oh, Carl, he had not wanted that...

How could he have done those things? And the worst part was that there was no malice in his actions. Just thoughtlessness. He acted on impulse and never thought of the consequences. He did not set out to hurt people. For him people barely existed, except when he wanted something out of them, or they interfered with his plans.

A spoiled brat...- he said to himself - a spoiled rich kid.

He did not know when he had begun sobbing. Sadness engulfed him like a black wave. The memoirs came back to him. He always had them with him, but this time he had no defense against them. Each face was now full of poignancy. Had he EVER looked at them?

The waste. The terrible waste. Poor mad Jenny, looking for her children and her faithless husband. She had looked so pretty, so full of life when he had seen her first. Why could he not have spared her? He had broken her like a toy. With less thought that a child gives a toy... he had clung to broken toys longer than the did to poor Jenny...

And Magda. She had lost everyone that she cared for. Because of him. Her sister. Her husband. Her nephew... even her niece had been denied her. An outcast from her own people. Even her last friend, Barnabas, was gone. And she had lived on.

What had those last years been like for her? Adam had said that she had been admitted back among her people after she delivered Petofi to them... Whether that was consolation for her losses... She had nothing to look forward to, day after day. And she lingered on, growing old and feeble. With no love in her heart, with no one to love her.

And he had done this to her.

And Beth, who had loved him so faithfully, who had stood by him when the curse came to him... abandoned like an old toy when Amanda came into her life... And Amanda, who was lost to him before he could tire of her and toss her aside. This frustration, he called true love...

And so man y others...

And Carl...

It was cold. Colder than he had ever experienced. He hugged himself, wrapped the blankets around himself, but it was no use. The cold came from inside him. A big, painful emptiness that had begun to eat its way out.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Quentin?" Adam looked with concern inside the cell. Quentin was not gone. He was lying down, huddled, in a corner.

"Quentin?" Adam repeated. "Is anything wrong?"

Quentin lifted his head slowly, painfully, and turned towards Adam the most anguished eyes Adam had ever seen. "No. Nothing's wrong."

Adam stared for a few moments, memories pulling at him, too. Then he opened the door and stepped in.

"What is wrong, Quentin?" he asked, taking Quentin in his arms and rocking him. "are you hurt?"

Quentin let himself be rocked and Adam remembered Charles, how it had been in the beginning. Charles had taken care of him and he had taken care of Charles. Many times Charles had had to hold him in his arms, comforting him as he was doing now with Quentin. No one had done this for him since. He had not allowed it to be done to him. His deal with Elizabeth did not include it.

"Quentin, I know what's is happening." he spoke softly "the portrait is not protecting you anymore form the consequences of your actions. It can't keep the memories from hurting you no more."

Quentin nodded. "Jenny" he said between sobs "she was so beautiful and I destroyed her."

Adam did not answer this. There was no answer to it, and what Quentin needed, he sensed, were not words, but a chance to speak of it, to be held while he experienced it, until it was over and he found out that the had survived.

He knew how that felt, that moment went the tears were over and you discovered that you had no more, and that the world was still there, and that you had to get up and go on living.

It would pass, he knew that. But it would not be stopped. Tears needed to flow before peace would come again to Quentin.

"I did not know it would be like this." Quentin managed to say.

Adam nodded. how would it feel when he broke free of the protection that the portrait gave him? Would he find someone to hold him close as he was now holding Quentin? Not that he did have that much to reproach himself for, but still he had...

"You'll have a future now, Quentin. Your past is no longer your future. I know that it hurts, but it is worth it.

Quentin nodded, holding tight to Adam's body. He needed this. Oh, God, how he needed this! He was surprised that he had somebody to cling to. That somebody still cared for him at all. Why should anyone? Had he cared for anyone, ever?

He asked Adam this. Adam just shook his head. "Because no one truly cares for me, either." he said, bitterness still in him. "We have to care for each other because we are all that we have."

Quentin babbled. About Jenny. About Magda, About Carl. About Beth... Everyone he had hurt...

Adam held him tighter. "Do not despair." he spoke gently "there is a way out for you."

Quentin was as helpless as a child. Somehow he found it disturbing.

Then there were no more tears.

"It does not hurt so much now." Quentin said.

"But it still hurts."

Quentin nodded. "It is such a terrible waste. all of it. All that I had, and all that I threw away. And it is gone, all of it."

Adam stroked Quentin's head. Yes. the waste of it. To live as long as Quentin had done and have nothing to show for it. He shivered. Would he find this much emptiness in his own life once he had allowed the impact to reach him?

In any case, he had to chance it.

"The scar in your arm is still there." he said "if has not been erased this time." he ran his hand over Quentin's hair. "And you don't have a single white hair yet. It is working."

"You meant that... that I am free."

"Seems so. But it may take a couple of days before we can be sure." he kept stroking Quentin's head. "You are going to be free. and so will I. Do you understand what that means? What freedom will entail? What the price might be?"

"I am beginning to find out."

"It might get worse yet." he said with emotion. "I tricked you into his. I kept you caged. I used you as a guinea pig. I did not give you a chance to choose this. Still I want to know that it is worth it to you."

Quentin sobbed, very softly "I do want it." he said "I am afraid of it, but I want it."

"Can you forgive me for the way I brought this about?"

Quentin nodded "It had to happen. And I am glad it did."

"Can we be friends?"

Friendship... how long had it been since he had had a friend? He had had Barnabas and Julia, for a while, then they had drifted apart, tried of his being so unreliable. And no one else truly cared for him..

"I would want to."

* * *

"Well, how's the proud mother doing?" George asked Vicky "I saw your boy and it is beautiful"

"Beautiful?" there was an edge of hostility in Vicky's voice. "you think so?"

He could have chosen to ignore it. Take her attitude as just tiredness, as she certainly needed to rest. But he decided not to. For they had reached a certain point where things needed to be aired.

"Vicky, if the baby was a girl you'd not question Roger, or David, or Willie, if they told you she was beautiful."

"I did not mean anything by that."

George shook his head. "Vicky, we have not been precisely cordial to each other since you came back."

"I tried to be." Vicky said defiantly.

"Yes. You did. I was the one at fault. I was jealous, you see."

"I had no wish to... to steal Barnabas from you " she advanced her chin defiantly "And even if I did, what would have been wrong with that?"

"I do not want to lose him. And you two had been close once."

"That was years ago."

George nodded. "I know that. I also know that when you moved in with him I felt threatened. You were an old flame of his, but worse, you were badly in need of help. He might not be able to resist that."

"A bird with a broken wing."

"He's so vulnerable to that. He needs to be needed. He has the incredibly need to care for, to nurture, and it was denied to him for too long. When given the chance to use it, he may even mistake it for love... I can deal with men and women making passes at him, but the temptation that your represented... That does not excuse my conduct. I was beastly towards you and I deserve to be kicked. Whatever problems I have with him, they are mine and his alone. Vicky, can you accept my apology?"

She smiled, a bit warily "Well, since you are so gracious about it, I have to accept it." she offered him her hand.

"Friends, then" he shook her hand.

"Friends."

* * *

Quentin lifted his head. "Is it over? Will I be free to go?"

Adam shook his head. "Not yet, there is still one business that has to be settled."

"Still another?" Quentin felt weak. As if a steamroller had run over him. And indeed, one had.

"There is still Carl."

"Carl?"

"Don't worry.. I won't let him get you. And she will help us."

"She? Who?"

"Somebody who agreed to help us."

And, on cue, Angelique stepped in.

"You?" Quentin asked "are you in this?"

She nodded "I am sorry, Quentin. I was in it from the beginning. I owed a debt to Adam. And then he offered to let me have Petofi's diary. I want it. I missed getting my hands on it before and I have always wanted it."

"But she made me promise not to harm you." Adam said quickly.

Quentin nodded. He could not be angry. A pervasive lassitude as in him.

"And now we will paid the debt that we owe you for this." Angelique said "we will do the last thing that you need to lead a new life in freedom. You have cried Quentin, have you not?"

Quentin nodded. It was too hard to talk now. Let them do as they wished..

"I have the handkerchief I used to dry his tears off." Adams said.

"Yes. It is important that we have it"

She lit a circle of candles on the ground.

"Stand in the middle of them, Quentin."

Quentin did so. He undressed when Angelique told him and knelt down, his head bent low.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

This better work, Angelique thought. She had to have Carl let not only Quentin off the hook, but also Barnabas.

Quentin waited, on his knees, eyes closed.

"Carl Collins." Angelique called. "Carl Collins, I summon you."

She repeated this three times then stepped back. One second later Carl was facing her.

"You see Quentin here." she said.

"I can't reach him in that circle "Carl complained "let me reach him.."

"No, not yet."

Carl's face was contorted with fury. "Why are you protecting him? You made a promise. Keep it!"

"I am keeping my promise. Quentin is here, and will be given to you. But not yet."

"Why not?"

"Not before you listen to what he has to say. You gave Barnabas that much."

"I might give him what Barnabas got."

"Not before you hear him out." Angelique insisted. "Quentin!" she ordered him sharply. "Your brother's here. He wants to know what you have to say for yourself!"

Quentin did not move.

"Quentin!" Angelique's voice cracked like a whip "You will answer. You will face your brother."

Quentin lifted his head..."Carl?" he looked at his brother's face. "Carl, what can I say to you? I am sorry... I have no right to ask you to believe me."

"Get up, Quentin." Angelique said. "and speak louder."

With an effort, Quentin got to this feet.

"I am sorry, Carl." he repeated.

Carl shook his head. "Sorry. You always were sorry. Each time you were caught you were sorry. But you never were, and the moment the nanny's back was turned you did it again. And they blamed me. I always too the blame for what you did."

Quentin looked down "I am sorry for that, too."

Carl moved around the circle, his eyes still blazing. "Is that all you can say? That you are sorry? No excuses, no explanations, nothing?"

Quentin shook his head. "I have nothing else."

"You always had something else to say. You always were full of ideas. You always knew what to do."

"Not anymore. You were my brother and I failed you."

"You always failed me. Ever since we were children."

"I failed everybody."

"And you can't change anything about it."

"No." Quentin gulped "Carl, I know what I did. I know that it was unforgivable. I don't expect you to forgive me."

"But you want me to."

"What do you wish to do to me?" he said simply.

"Kill you, as you had me killed."

Angelique laughed at that. "Well, Quentin, will you be a coward again? Will you take the easy way out?"

"The easy way out?"

"It would be neat, wouldn't it? If Carl kills you, then that would be the end of it. You would not have to look at yourself again. You do not have to face up to your failings. It is tempting, isn't it? To put your neck for the axe. Ask Barnabas about it."

Carl was now staring at her. "What do you mean?"

"You want to hurt Quentin? Hurt has he has never been hurt before? Then don't take his life. Let him try to live it, with the full knowledge of his failure as a human being in every sense."

Adam gulped. It was now up to Carl. What future, if any, Quentin would have was up to Carl. He wanted Quentin to live free, but he could not influence him in any way.

"Look at this, Carl." Angelique lifted the tear stained handkerchief. "Quentin's tears are in here."

"For me? Did he weep for me?"

"Yes. For you. And for Jenny, and for Magda, and the others."

"I don't see him weeping now."

"A human body can only weep for so long. But tears will come again."

"How many of them?"

"How many do you want?"

There was a look of malice in Carl's face. And then one of longing.

"Let him weep them. Let him weep for each and everyone of us. Let his tears fill three pints. One for me, one for Jenny, and one for Magda. No later than a month from now. If he can bring them, he will be free."

* * *

Hallie hit the glass with her knife. "You know." she told David "at this moment small town life sounds quite appealing. I could teach students, sing in a choir. Probably get to play all the big roles in the amateur opera company, which I may help found."

David grinned. "You sound like you are quite willing to move to Collinsport. And we could use more cultural activities, in there. Specially for the summer. you could get Davenport to back you up. Barnabas might not be able to afford it, but he can bring in others."

"The Old House might be a nice place to stage an opera. Plenty of atmosphere. I am serious, David. I am tired of living on the road. I want to put down roots somewhere. Why not Collinsport? Uncle Eliot used to live there.

They kept eating.

"This is good." David commented "what is it?"

"Spanish tripe."

"Tripe? Ughh."

"You have been eating it and finding it delicious, so don't complain."

"Tripe.."

"You could have had marinated octopus, instead."

'Octopus?"

"The Spanish people find it delicious."

"And look what happened to the Spanish empire."

"Then there is eggplant. Properly prepared it is delicious."

David made a face. "You are as bad as Davenport."

* * *

"Can a human being weep that much?" Adam asked "and how do you collect the tears?"

"Collecting them is not so difficult. I am a witch, after all."

"Pay in tears. Well, that's a way to do it. How good will that be? What if he doesn't have enough tears? Can you help him with that?"

"No. The tears have to be genuine. I cannot induce them in any way. They have to come from him. I will collect them, but that is all I'll be able to do.

"It is up to him, then. I would not have thought of it. It seems something that can't be done. Grief is not something you measure."

"Measuring grief is very hard, but not impossible. And the methods you have are so crude and inadequate that you might as well forget it."

"I worry what might happen to him if he does not fulfill his quota. Can you protect him then?"

"We went through his thing together. Is it so strange that I should care for him after what he made possible for me?"

* * *

Will Quentin be free of Carl? What is this box that Yolanda seeks and how will it change things? What will Vicky do now, after severing her ties to Collinwood? Will Adam marry Carolyn? And what will Hallie, the new phoenix do next?

Stay tuned


End file.
